


Like a Virgin

by ddynoliaeth



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix-It, Karaoke, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:27:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25519522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddynoliaeth/pseuds/ddynoliaeth
Summary: Richie's attempt at teasing Eddie at karaoke during the Losers Club monthly meetup has unintended but not undesired consequences.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 4
Kudos: 163





	Like a Virgin

**Author's Note:**

> It's the slutty Richie singing Madonna fic we've all been waiting for.
> 
> This is my first fic for the fandom bls treat me well

Eddie is in danger.

Not life-or-death danger, although if pressed he would say he's slightly more nervous than when he helped take down a murderous alien clown. More nervous than when he called his soon-to-be-ex wife from the hospital bed, telling her he wanted a divorce and that he wasn't coming home, and also that he had a hole the size of a fist in his abdomen. And definitely more nervous than when he was released from the hospital, bundled into a red metaphor for overcompensation, and driven to L.A. where he now lives with his best friend. 

No, sitting in a karaoke bar, surrounded by his newly rekindled family, is definitely more nerve-wracking than all of that. 

Especially considering it's not one of those bars with individual booths, and he's hanging out with a minimum of three easily recognisable, moderately to severely famous people. As soon as he and Richie had left Richie's -  _ their  _ \- house, the paparazzi had descended, as Eddie has learned to expect. He's just glad that Richie has cleared up any confusion about their relationship - or lack thereof - in at least four interviews. Not that it stops people theorising online. 

He can feel eyes on their table from the corner: when he looks, he catches a group of young people (christ, when did he start thinking of late twenties as young) quickly looking away and stashing their phones. He smiles awkwardly and waves at them, sending them into fits of giggles. 

"Richie!" Bev says, shoving him from her position on Eddie's left. "You're up!"

"Copy that, Beaverly," Richie says, shooting her a set of finger guns and a wink as he gets up from his seat on Eddie's right. The man on stage finishes his song and returns to his table as Richie leaps up onto the stage, all long limbed and oddly graceful. He takes the microphone and grins wildly as his song begins. 

Immediately, Eddie groans and hits his head against the table as Bev and the other Losers start hooting and hollering. 

_ "I made it through the wilderness,"  _ Richie sings through his smirk, eyes scrunching up cutely. No, not cutely, fuck. Eddie needs to get a hold of himself, like, yesterday.  _ "Somehow I made it through. Didn't know how lost I was, until I found you." _

Bill and Mike are leaning on each other, laughing hard and trying to catch their breath as Richie points directly at Eddie. Of  _ course _ he's using this opportunity to fuck with him. Would he really be Richie if he didn't? Eddie just hopes he can get through the hazing without revealing any of the feelings that have been bubbling up inside him since he laid eyes on the asshole at The Jade. 

_ "I was beat,"  _ Richie sings, throwing his free arm out wide, and Eddie resolutely does not think about his wingspan or how broad his shoulders have to be to handle an arm that long.  _ "Incomplete." _ He wraps his arm back around his own chest, and makes a plaintive face, still holding eye contact with Eddie. He has a glint of mischief in his eyes, clearly seconds away from giving up the ghost and pissing himself laughing. Eddie just glowers back as well as he can muster. 

"Oh my god," Bev says breathlessly through laughter. Ben grins beside her, an arm around the back of her chair. He glances over her head at Eddie, who frowns deeper at him. He just laughs in response. 

_ "Shiny and new,"  _ Richie continues, taking the microphone off the stand. Eddie shrinks in his chair and wishes he'd taken the one Stan is sitting in, where he could slip down and be underneath the table. Instead, he's stuck sitting parallel to it, facing the stage. Richie starts swaying his hips up there, and it should be ridiculous, but instead it just makes Eddie think of things he certainly shouldn't be thinking of in public.  _ "Like a Virgin. Touched for the very first time!"  _

Richie runs his free hand down his chest to his pelvis, stopping just short of actively grabbing his own dick in front of a room of strangers. Eddie can feel heat gathering in his cheeks, and silently curses his over-active imagination.  _ "Like a Virgin. When your heart beats - next to mine."  _ Richie slaps his hand over his heart and winks. 

Eddie sneaks a look at the twenty-somethings in the corner, and all of them have their phones out, filming Richie. One of them has their phone trained on him and he quickly snaps his head back, and starts freaking out about being too obvious. 

_ "Gonna give you all my love, boy,"  _ Richie sings, exaggerating the movements of his hips as he swaggers over to the edge of the stage and drops down to floor level.  _ "My fear is fading fast."  _ He starts making his way over to their table. 

Stan snorts into his drink. He starts coughing when some of it comes up and out of his nose as Richie stops to drop down to the floor and roll his hips as he lifts himself back up, still maintaining eye contact with Eddie.  _ "Been saving it all for you, 'cause only love can last. _

_ "You're so fine,"  _ he sings as he reaches Eddie and stands in front of him, kicking his own chair out of the way.  _ "And you're mine. Make me strong, yeah you make me bold."  _ He puts his free arm over Eddie's shoulder, and the pressure makes Eddie's brain short-circuit. He lets out an undignified noise, and tries to school his features to be more annoyed than hopelessly confused and aroused.  _ "Yeah, your love thawed out what was scared and cold." _

"Like a virgin!" Bev shouts along with Richie's singing, cackling and clapping her hands. Bill looks about ready to pass out from lack of oxygen, head practically in Mike's lap from how far he's doubled over in laughter. 

_ "Touched for the very first time."  _ He removes his arm and rubs his hand over his chest and abdomen, leaning in towards Eddie with a blissed out look on his face. It's too much, and Eddie has to squeeze his legs together as his dick starts to get extremely interested in what's going on.  _ "Like a Virgin. With your heartbeat next to mine."  _ He puts his hand on Eddie's chest, over the top edge of the starburst scar and his heart. Eddie forces a strangled noise back down his throat before it punches out of his mouth. 

_ "You're so fine, and you're mine."  _ Richie makes his way around to the back of Eddie's chair, trailing his hand over his chest in the grey fitted tee he was forced to wear now that all his polos have been removed from his wardrobe, thanks to Bev. The hand ends up on his right shoulder, grip not tight, but possessive.  _ "I'll be yours till the end of time."  _

Richie bends down and sings into both the microphone and Eddie's left ear, sliding his hand back across his chest to grip at his other shoulder, arm braced across Eddie's pectorals.  _ "'Cause you make me feel, yeah, you make me feel I've nothing to hide. _

_ "Like a Virgin,"  _ Richie sings, and Eddie starts hyperventilating without meaning to because Richie's hand starts dragging down his chest and wandering over his entire torso.  _ "Touched for the very first time."  _ The hand dips low, just barely grazing the top of Eddie's jean waistband, before sweeping back upwards.  _ "Like a Virgin, with your heartbeat -"  _ his hand pauses over Eddie's heart again and pulls him further back into the chair  _ "- next to mine." _

Mercifully, Richie lets him go now, and slithers back round to his front and oh  _ shit _ maybe it's not merciful after all, because Eddie has no table to hide his (painfully obvious, he's sure) erection. But Richie just grins maniacally at him, and spins around to make his way back up to the stage, ass wiggling in a way that should be stupid but is instead stupidly hot. Eddie knows he has the dumbest expression possible on his face, which must be bright red, and he avoids looking at Richie as he finishes his song. 

The table explodes into applause as Richie returns the microphone to its stand and takes an exaggerated bow. Ben sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles; Bev and Bill are both wiping tears from their eyes as they gasp for air, Mike clapping with one hand on his knee and the other around Bill's shoulders. Stan is on his phone, probably madly sending video evidence of Eddie's mortification to Patty. The other patrons of the bar seem to be wildly entertained. Eddie can only imagine how quickly Richie's Twitter is going to explode with retweeted videos from the group in the corner. 

Speaking of Richie, he's jumping down from the stage and making his way (walking normally, thank  _ God _ ) back to their table. Eddie has a split second of terror before he shoots up and mutters "bathroom", scurrying away to a hallway out of sight of the main bar. He knows everyone will have questions when he gets back, but he desperately needs to recentre himself before he faces any of them. And he definitely needs to get his boner under control, or those questions will be more probing ( _ shit, wrong word _ ) than he can handle. 

He leans against the wall of the hallway and tries desperately to catch his breath. He's almost got it, but then the door from the bar into the hall swings open, and Richie walks through, his face a picture of concern.

"Eds? You alright?"

"Yes, fine, totally cool, go away now," Eddie says, and it all comes out slightly breathless and much too fast. He scrunches his face up and turns away from Richie, trying to hide his, uh, situation. It doesn't work. Richie walks right up behind him and places a caring hand on his shoulder, and Eddie can't stop the shiver that goes through him. He swears under his breath. 

"Sorry if that went too far," Richie says, uncharacteristically soft. He tries to turn Eddie around to look in his eyes, but Eddie hesitates and resists. Richie drops his hand. "Beep beep, Richie?"

"No," Eddie sighs, turning around despite his lower body embarrassment still being extremely present. "Sorry, I just…"

"It's okay," Richie says, rubbing one of his arms and avoiding eye contact. "I know it was kind of intense. You know me. I get too into the bit."

Eddie studies Richie's face, taking in the soft flush across his nose and cheeks, the regret in his eyes, and thinks  _ fuck it _ . He grabs Richie's shoulders and shoves him bodily against the wall, ignoring Richie's confused grunt and reaching up on the tips of his toes to steal a searing kiss. 

Eddie pulls away quickly, far too soon for Richie to respond, and goes to drop his hands from his shoulders. But Richie's own hands come up from their spot splayed against the wall to grip Eddie's hips, pull him back in, and he leans in so close that Eddie can feel the puff of his heavy breath against his lips.

"You sure?" Richie asks, worried about Eddie's well-being to the end. Eddie rolls his eyes, whispers "beep beep", and leans back in. 

This kiss is less desperate, but so much better because this time Richie's kissing him back, stubble grazing Eddie's chin as he moves his lips against Eddie's. Eddie hums deep in the back of his throat, moving to grip Richie's (frankly unfairly large) upper arms. Richie responds with a high-pitched squeak, pulling Eddie in further hips-first until he can feel Eddie's dick through his jeans. Eddie huffs through his nose at the feeling of Richie's own hardening cock against his hip, then groans as Richie forcefully shoves his thigh in between his legs, deliberately rubbing it against Eddie. He pulls back, fingers locked in a bruising grip over his biceps, and hangs his head down with his eyes screwed shut so he doesn't have to look at Richie's wet lips. 

"Fuck," he bites out. 

"That's the goal," Richie says, although the breathless quality to his voice somewhat undercuts the humour of his words. 

"Madonna, though?" Eddie asks, looking back up from under his eyelashes and knit together brows. "I mean, really?"

"I dunno," Richie shrugs, face cracking into a wide grin. "Seemed to work fine."

"Were you  _ actually _ trying to get me hot, or were you just messing with me?"

"Definitely the latter," Richie admits, his thumb rubbing circles on the skin of Eddie's hipbone where his shirt has ridden up. "But I'm not complaining. Good to know that  _ Like a Virgin  _ gets you riled up."

"It wasn't the song, dumbass," Eddie sighs, closing his eyes at the feeling of Richie's hand sliding further up his side under his shirt. "It was you. Fucking…  _ gyrating _ ."

"Oh yeah? Like this?" Richie asks, moving his hips in a circle in such a way that his dick presses harder against Eddie's other hip and Eddie's is forced to grind against his thigh. Eddie punches out a groan. 

"Don't be an asshole, asshole."

"I don't know," Richie says through his grin. "Seems to me like you're enjoying yourself." He moves his hips again and Eddie knocks his head against his collarbone. "What else did you like about my performance?"

"Fuck you, dude."

"Maybe, maybe not. Definitely not if you don't answer the question."

Eddie shoots a glare up at Richie, but he just gazes back with the same smirk and does that thing with his hips again, and Eddie has to close his eyes and drop his head back to his chest. 

"Fuck, fine. I liked when you put your arm around me."

"Like this?" Richie asks, resting his arm over Eddie's shoulder, hand dangling uselessly behind his back. Eddie shakes his head against his chest. 

"No. When you were behind me."

"Oh," Richie grins wider. "Like this." 

He spins Eddie around suddenly, pulling his back against his chest, arm pressing firmly against Eddie's collarbone and holding him in place. Not that Eddie was that interested in disentangling himself. He breathes out roughly, his head thunking back against Richie's shoulder. Richie bows his head to whisper in Eddie's ear. 

"Feel good?"

"R-Rich," Eddie breathes. Richie grinds his dick against his ass, and it makes Eddie's twitch in his jeans. 

"Wanted this," Richie whispers, his voice almost inaudible if he weren't right next to Eddie's ear. He can feel every hot breath against his neck. "Since I saw you at The Jade. God, since I was a teenager. Even when I couldn't remember you, I was still wanting this."

_ "Richie,"  _ Eddie whines, reaching up to grip Richie's forearm where it rests against his chest. His hips involuntarily grind backwards and Richie sucks in a hissed breath. "M-Me, too." 

Richie hums, kissing against the taught muscle where Eddie's neck meets shoulder. His other hand moves from its place holding his hip tight to trace the waistband of his jeans until he can smooth it down over the thick bulge of his dick. Eddie responds with another shiver, inadvertently rubbing his ass against Richie's dick and his own against his hand. Richie huffs against his neck. 

The door opens. 

Eddie's eyes fly open as he rips himself away from Richie, putting as much distance between them as possible. Richie plasters himself further against the wall, pulling his leather jacket tight around himself in an attempt to hide his arousal. 

"Oops," Bev giggles, her face flushed with alcohol, bringing her hand up to hide her smirk. "My bad, boys."

"Bev, what the fuck!" Eddie shrieks, shuffling and trying to hide behind a fern sitting between the men's and women's bathroom doors. 

"Hey, I just came to pee. Not my fault you two were feeling each other up in a karaoke bar!" 

"W-We weren't-"

"Yeah, because that's convincing," Bev says, still chuckling, as she heads for the women's. "It's okay. We all assumed you'd figure it out eventually. I'm just glad it was tonight - one more week and I'd have lost four hundred bucks."

"You  _ what?" _

"You guys were betting on us?" Richie asks incredulously. His eyebrows are halfway up his not insubstantial forehead. 

"Oops," Bev says. "Wasn't supposed to say that." She ducks into the bathroom, leaving them in her wake with another giggling fit. 

Eddie looks at Richie, and Richie looks back. Embarrassment has fixed their problems, but heated eye contact threatens to undo its hard work. Richie holds out his hand, and Eddie grabs it without thinking, letting himself be lead out of the hallway and back into the bar. 

When the rest of the Losers see their intertwined hands, the table erupts into noise again, drowning out the woman singing  _ Dancing Queen  _ off-pitch on the stage. Stan brings his phone up, snapping a picture of their embarrassed smiles, immediately sending a copy off to his wife. Bill throws his hands up, complaining that if they'd just staved off karaoke night for  _ one more week _ he'd have won the bet. Mike rubs his boyfriend's back and grins at them, nodding. Ben gives them both a thumbs up, face encouraging. 

They say their goodbyes quickly, apologising for ducking out of their monthly meetup early, their sorrys waved off and well wishes said in their place. The Losers Club stay at the bar, getting progressively drunker and generally being a menace to the rest of the patrons, albeit less so without Richie and Eddie's bickering. 

The uber ride home is uneventful as both of them try their hardest not to jump the bones of the other, pretending they're content with holding hands and arguing about Stan's song choice -  _ I'm Still Standing _ by Elton John. Not soon enough, the car pulls up outside their -  _ their! -  _ house, and Richie almost drops the keys in his excitement trying to unlock the door. 

They don't even bother taking their shoes off before Richie is dragging Eddie down the hall to his bedroom. 

The door closes behind them and Eddie is on Richie, practically jumping into his arms and smashing his lips against Richie's. His brows are furrowed in that adorable way he has, eyes squeezed shut, and Richie chuckles, slowing the kiss down and pulling away for breath. Eddie tries diving right back in, but Richie stops him. 

"Woah, tiger," Richie says, laughter still bubbling in his chest. Eddie grumbles and tries to kiss him again - Richie lets him for a moment, before pulling away again. "Slow down, Eds."

"Fuck off," Eddie glares. "You can't tell me you've been waiting for this since we were teenagers and then expect me to go  _ slow _ ."

"We've got all the time in the world, dude."

"Don't call me dude while I'm trying to fuck you."

Richie's smirk falters a little, his breath stuttering and coming slightly heavier now. "Alright, Spaghetti."

"God, no."

"Seriously," Richie says, pulling away further. "Shouldn't we talk about this first?"

"What's there to talk about?" Eddie growls, looking up at Richie from under frustrated brows. "I love you, and I want to be  _ in  _ you."

"Jesus fuck," Richie breathes. "Didn't know you could dirty talk like that." 

" _ That's _ what you've got to say?"

"Sorry, sorry," Richie says, sweeping down to steal a kiss. "I love you too, Eddie."

"Good. Now are you gonna let me fuck you, or what?"

"Shit," Richie swears, hips twitching. It's completely different to the bar, but he finds he quite enjoys being bossed around. He never has before, but then again, he's never been faced with a horny, almost animalistic Eddie Kaspbrak before. He figures he's going to learn a lot about himself over the coming forever. 

"N-Not tonight," he bites out, to both of their disappointment. "Don't think I can last long enough for that."

"Fine," Eddie concedes, because he's not sure he could, either. "But if you think I'm not gonna get my dick inside some part of you tonight, you're even more of a dumbass than I thought."

"Oh, yeah, baby, talk mean to me," Richie teases. Eddie growls -  _ growls  _ \- and shoves him towards his bed. The backs of his knees hit the mattress, and he drops down. 

"I'm sure you'd fucking like that, dickhead," Eddie says, tearing his shirt off over his head. Richie follows suit, ridding himself of his jacket, Hawaiian shirt, and dark undershirt. Eddie's eyes rake over his chest, dusted with dark hair, and his soft belly with its little paunch. Eddie climbs over his lap, one leg either side of Richie's thighs, and finally sinks his hands into Richie's soft hair, pulling his head back to kiss him firmly but lovingly. 

Richie sighs into his mouth and reaches up to grip Eddie's hips. Eddie doesn't sit back against Richie's thighs, instead sitting up to hover over his lap and force Richie to lean up to kiss him. Richie wonders idly in the back of his mind if Eddie's getting off on this, being higher up than Richie, making him reach for his lips. 

Eddie pulls away, too soon, and Richie chases him without thinking. Eddie just laughs. 

"Needy," he says, stroking a thumb over Richie's right cheek. Richie reaches up and mirrors him, over the soft purple-silver scar where Bowers stabbed him in the face. It doesn't hurt this time, and Eddie leans into it. 

"Need you," Richie mumbles, low enough that Eddie thinks he wasn't supposed to hear it. 

"Okay," Eddie replies, removing himself from Richie's lap despite his protests. He situates himself on the bed beside Richie, and looks at him expectantly. 

Richie looks back at him.

Eddie rolls his eyes, and jerks his head towards the floor, spreading his legs wider. 

Richie's eyes go wide before he scrambles to get himself off the bed and on his knees between Eddie's thighs. His hands, so  _ big _ , rest on each one, and he looks up at Eddie for guidance. Eddie runs a hand into his hair, practically petting him softly. Richie's eyes flutter as though he's trying to decide whether he wants to let them fall closed and lean in or keep gazing up at Eddie with too much emotion written on his face. Eddie pointedly undoes the button on his jeans. Richie smiles.

"Tell me if anything's too much, Rich," Eddie says. 

"You, too," Richie replies. Eddie's mouth twitches into a soft smile in return. Richie glides his hands up Eddie's thighs, and he's careful to avoid as much contact against his groin as he can while pulling the zipper down. Eddie's smile drops as he huffs out a breath. 

Richie slips his long, thick fingers under the waistband of Eddie's jeans and underwear, and Eddie lifts his hips to let him pull them down. Richie leaves them bunched around his thighs, and stares.

Eddie's dick is hard, obviously, but it's nothing like what Richie had expected. All his fantasies the last few months, ever since Derry, had involved Eddie's dick being thinner, longer. But no, it's short - not particularly so, it's proportional to his short stature. But shit, it's  _ thick _ . Richie can feel saliva pooling in his mouth at the sight of it. 

"Jesus," he breathes.

"No, but good guess."

Richie smirks, laughs a little, and plunges in the deep end.

Eddie's hand in his hair tightens as Richie fits his mouth over the head of his dick. The muscles of his thighs and his abs -  _ unfair, why is he so ripped?  _ \- tense as he lets his head fall back for a moment. He quickly rights himself, letting his chin drop to his chest so he can look down at Richie staring back up at him from behind crooked glasses. 

"Shit," he says, drawn out and ragged. Richie whines around his dick and Richie's hips stutter on the ground. Something clicks in Eddie's head at that, and he smooths his hand through Richie's hair again. "Just like that, Rich. Feels good."

Richie hums quietly, eyes drifting closed as he pushes down further over Eddie's cock. Eddie's breathing gets heavier, but he will not be distracted. 

"You look so good," he says, watching Richie's eyes open again and look up in surprise. "So perfect with me in your mouth. You've wanted this, haven't you? This, specifically. You, on your knees, being good for me. Are you good for me, Rich?"

Richie nods emphatically, and it feels amazing around Eddie's dick. 

"Is it like your very first time?" Eddie teases, and Richie whines in the back of his throat, trying to fit more of Eddie in his mouth, lips stretched wide. "I wish it was, Richie. I wish we hadn't lost all that time. Wish we'd figured it out earlier - could have saved so much time. Could have been doing this forever."

Richie looks up at him with tears in his eyes, and Eddie knows it isn't because the plush carpeted floor is uncomfortable on his knees.

"It's okay, Rich," he murmurs. "We've got forever now. And you're doing so well."

Richie huffs a breath out of his nose, and pushes the last little bit down on Eddie's dick. He can feel the head pressing against the back of his throat. Eddie's hips twitch in a half-contained thrust, but Richie doesn't gag around it. Just hollows his cheeks and sucks.

"Jesus fucking christ, Richie!" Eddie says through gritted teeth. Richie pulls back a little so he can stretch his lips out into a smile again. "You take that better than I could have imagined. I'm so proud of you."

Richie makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a whine, the vibrations shooting right through Eddie's dick and into his gut. 

"Fuck," he says, furrowing his brow again. "Yeah. Can you take more, Rich? Can I move my hips?"

Richie widens his eyes and nods. 

Eddie starts softly, shallow thrusts that don't get too far into Richie's mouth. Richie reaches his hands around to grip at Eddie's ass, silently willing Eddie to go harder, deeper, with his eyes just  _ pleading  _ up at him. 

"You want more, huh?" He says, bringing his other hand up to hold Richie's jaw and feel himself through his cheek. "You gonna be good for me, then?" Another whine. "Slap my side if it's too much, okay?"

Richie nods, and Eddie picks up the pace, holding his head in place as he lets his hips fuck into the heat of Richie's mouth. He can feel the outline of his dick moving in and out through Richie's cheek, and his glasses are jostled by every thrust, but Eddie pointedly doesn't fix or remove them and Richie doesn't either. He just keeps looking up imploringly at Eddie with a haze of satisfaction and want in his eyes. If Eddie didn't know better -  _ and he doesn't  _ \- he'd say that this is  _ exactly  _ what Richie has always wanted. 

"You're so perfect, Rich," he says, his breathing uneven and his hips stuttering. "So good, so amazing at this. You f-feel so- ah! Feel so good. Gonna come, Rich."

Richie hums, maintaining eye contact, and uses those thick, burly arms to pull Eddie's hips forward so his cock grazes the back of his throat and sucks. Hard. 

"Shit, fuck,  _ Richie _ ," Eddie swears, the sight of Richie's blissed-out expression giving him that last little push he needs. He comes, thick and hard, down Richie's throat, and now Richie is gurgling, not quite choking, but definitely not able to swallow it all despite his best efforts. Bits of come, mixed with saliva, drips out of his mouth as his tongue works Eddie through it. He lets Eddie drop from his mouth after a while, softening dick slipping out with a disgusting, hot sound. His face is a mess - come and spit smeared around his mouth and down his chin, sweat across his brow, glasses askew. He fixes them and looks up at Eddie, gazing down at him with adoration.

"Good?"

"Fuck, yeah, Rich," Eddie breathes, all of his muscles akin to jelly. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"I should ask you that," Richie chuckles. "It's insane how many of my buttons you immediately found."

"Mm, yeah, it's  _ so _ surprising that you have a praise kink," Eddie says, but there's no bite to his tone. He smooths a lock of hair back from Richie's face. "You need a hand?"

"Um," Richie says, looking away. He looks… embarrassed?

"What?"

"I… don't." 

He looks down, then away again. Eddie follows his eyes down to the front of Richie's jeans, where a wet spot is seeping through.

"Jesus Christ, Rich," he says. "Did you…?"

"Okay, you can never, and I mean  _ never _ , tell anyone about this or I'm never deepthroating you again." 

Eddie laughs, pulling Richie up onto the bed next to him. He leans in for a long, drawn-out kiss. "Alright."

"Hey, Eds?" Richie says, voice small. Eddie hums in response, lazily dragging kisses across his cheek and down his neck. "Aren't you freaking out?"

"Why?"

"I've got your come drying on my chin."

Eddie groans. "Yeah, you do. It's so fucking  _ hot _ ." 

"Shit," Richie swears, hips bucking. Eddie pulls back and looks down.

"You sure you don't need a hand?"

"I have no idea what the fuck is happening," Richie says, bewildered. His dick is pressing insistently against the drying come patch in his pants. "I'm fucking forty."

"I'm not complaining," Eddie says, reaching down and trailing his hand over Richie's groin. Richie groans, eyes slipping closed. "How long ago did you…?"

"Almost immediately," Richie answers, his underused brain filter completely non-existent. He bucks up against Eddie's hand. 

"So, what, fifteen, twenty minutes ago?"

"I- ah! - I guess."

"Mmm," Eddie hums, mouthing at Richie's neck as his hand undoes his jeans deftly, a skill he gained years ago when his arm was in a cast. "Sounds like you've been backed up."

"Didn't want to -  _ shit _ ," he interrupts himself as Eddie gets his hand around his dick, sticky with his own almost dry come. "You moved in, and it felt, I don't know, wrong. Touching myself. With you down the hall."

"Didn't stop me," Eddie says, angling his head so he can rest it on Richie's shoulder as he watches his own hand pump Richie's sensitive cock. It's huge in his hand, slightly bigger than it should be to be completely proportional to Richie's big frame. It's unfair that someone who almost exclusively makes big dick jokes would actually have a big dick, but Eddie can't find it in himself to complain. "I don't think I've jerked off that much in my life."

"You what?"

"How could I not, Rich? With you fucking walking around in sweatpants and no shirt? Or that one time you came downstairs and you were just in  _ boxers _ . Fuck, I'm surprised you didn't notice how fast I booked it outta there. I had to hide in the bathroom, had to shove my fingers in my mouth so you couldn't hear me. Only took me about four minutes to come that time."

" _ Eddie _ ," Richie whines, hips bucking. 

"Or do you wanna hear about when you were out firing your writers? You were gone for hours, and you left in a fucking  _ suit _ , dude. A  _ tailored  _ suit. You have no idea what that did to me. I've got a dildo, you know. Got it when I moved in. And I fucked myself so hard that day, thinking about you, thinking about what would happen if you came home and saw me like that. Would you fuck me, Richie? Keep your suit on, take your dick out, and make a mess of me?"

"I c-can't- I'm gonna-"

"Or do you want me to fuck you, Rich? Keep the shirt on, open, vest on top, and have you ride my dick on the couch? You'd be so  _ good _ for me, Richie. You're so good."

Richie comes, again, weak spurts but the force of it making him shudder in Eddie's arms, almost doubling over from the sensations. Eddie strokes him through it, until Richie's whines turn pained, and he reaches over to the bedside table to grab some tissues, cleaning up as best he can. It's not enough, so he plants a kiss on Richie's cheek and manoeuvres him to lie down on the bed. He disappears into the ensuite, wets a wash cloth, and returns to clean Richie and himself up. He throws the cloth back towards the bathroom and removes the rest of their clothes so he can curl up beside Richie in complete comfort. 

"I have a laundry hamper," Richie says sleepily, turning to wrap his gorilla arms around Eddie and pull them chest to chest. 

"I'll figure it out tomorrow."

"Eddie Kaspbrak, letting dirty clothes and a come-soaked rag just sit on the floor? Maybe this is a dream."

Eddie pinches Richie's bicep and Richie jumps, and laughs.

"Not a dream, just too tired," Eddie says, sleep creeping into his voice. 

"Well, don't kill me in the morning. I tried to warn you."

"I won't, if you promise to get me coffee first thing."

"Anything for my Eddie Spaghetti."

"Shut up, asshole."

"Back to being mean? I liked Nice Eddie."

"Get me coffee and maybe you'll get Nice Eddie again. Maybe on his knees this time."

Richie laughs, a vibration against Eddie's ear where it's pressed against his chest. 

"I'd like that."

"Love you, Rich," Eddie mumbles, already falling asleep. 

"Love you, Eds."

Their phones, forgotten in their jeans on the floor, ping with notifications from the Losers Club group chat. Bev has claimed her four hundred dollars, and she promises to spend it on a quadruple date with all of them, "now that everyone has found their soulmates". Eddie will grumble about the concept in the morning when he reads the messages, sipping on his coffee at his and Richie's dining table, with Richie draped over his back and reading over his shoulder. But he'll smile, secretly, just for him and Richie, and admit that, maybe, Bev's right about this. Again. And Richie will grin, and Eddie will think yeah. She's definitely right.


End file.
